


oh mother dear we're not the fortunate ones

by HowCleverOfYou



Category: Stranger Things (TV 2016)
Genre: Billy Hargrove Has a Crush on Steve Harrington, Essentially this is Billy trying to ask Steve out but he's REALLY bad at it, Internal awkwardness, Internalized Homophobia, M/M, Neil Hargrove's A+ Parenting, Not like...... a HAPPY ending.... but a canon-compliant ending....., Pre-Relationship, Season/Series 03, Uuuuf Billy's just a bb with a crush, and THENNNNNN, takes place during 3x01
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-23
Updated: 2020-07-23
Packaged: 2021-03-05 00:06:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,641
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25475092
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HowCleverOfYou/pseuds/HowCleverOfYou
Summary: “Whattya got going on after work?” Everything inside him lights up for a second, half in alarm and half in celebration, because the wordscame out of his mouth. He’s been saying them to himself in the mirror for the last two weeks in different voices, tones, and intonations, and maybe that’s why he can’t remember how he said it just now. Maybe he slurred the first half of his sentence together in his rush to get it out.Shit, oh fuck, he’s done for.
Relationships: Billy Hargrove/Steve Harrington
Comments: 5
Kudos: 64





	oh mother dear we're not the fortunate ones

**Author's Note:**

> me: omg just finish editing the last chapter of in the locust wind, iT'S LITERALLY DONE  
> me:  
> me: no
> 
> you can read this as a stand-alone story or as a (loose) companion to in the locust wind
> 
> TW/CW: joke about suicide, joke about incest, homophobic slur

What are you doing after work? What are you doing after _work_? _What_ are you doing after work? What _are_ you doing after work? What are _you_ doing after work? Well, what are you doing _after_ work? Pretty boy. Princess. Harrington. _Steve_. King Steve. No, just Steve. Steve?

The Scoops Ahoy chick is heading home, so the store’s empty. There’s no way past all of these jumbled thoughts other than barreling straight through. Shit. Fuck, he should’ve taken that shot before he got out of the car. But _no_ , he’s so bent out of shape, he’s trying to do stupid shit _sober_ now. Some idiot part of him thinks it’s _romantic_. 

“Harrington,” he calls from the doorway. Oh, the store might actually _be_ empty. “Come out, come out, wherever you are.”

Bad idea. Possibly the worst idea he’s ever had.

“What the hell do you want, Hargrove?” Harrington pushes his way out of the back room with a mop and bucket. He’s not wearing his hat, and his little neckerchief thing is untied. He could probably wear a bag over his head or, all right, a bag over his little ass and Billy would still be drooling over him. He could swap out the little blue briefs he wears to the pool for a pocket-protector and Billy would _still_ dig it.

“Just wanted to see what the prettiest boy in town is up to.” He leans his elbows onto the counter and pushes out his chest a little. He’s wearing a white button-down open over his swim trunks. Is Harrington a tit guy? Billy’s all tan from how many hours he’s working at the pool, and if he’d hauled ass a little earlier in the day instead of carting Maxine’s entitled ass all around Hawkins, his hair would still be dripping water from his shower onto his shirt and it would go all see-through. His back would be too from the car ride over. He’s got some _good_ back muscles, the kind he should be showing off. Maybe he should get his nipple pierced. Would Harrington be into that? 

Shit, he’s been trying to focus and be more deliberate about his tone. Did that come out okay, or does he just sound like a jackass who came to the loser-ass mall just to rib an ex-teammate for having long eyelashes? Is it too queer to notice another dude’s eyelashes? Is it okay to think about Harrington giving him butterfly kisses? Don’t mention his eyelashes. Come on, _focus_.

“Isn’t it feeding time for your people or something?” Billy raises an eyebrow and Harrington gestures sort of vaguely. He wheels his mop and bucket out from behind the counter, looking bored, and Billy turns around so he can lean back on his elbows. Maybe he’s into thighs? Shit, these are his long trunks. He should’ve gone shorter. His tan is making the blondish peach fuzz on his thighs look all sexy and shit. Billy _knows_ he’s hot, but there’s something about Harrington that makes his skin itch, like he needs him to know that, too. “I’m saying you’re a werewolf. It’s nighttime. Ha-ha-ha. Well, this was real fun, I’ll see you next time and we’ll laugh it up again.”

Billy clicks his tongue. “What’s up your ass, Harrington?” _Me. Me me me me me me me me me._

“Oh, could it be…” He shifts his weight onto one leg and puts a hand on his hip, and that with the way he’s glaring at Billy is just _too much_. He’s too _fucking_ cute. He looks like both a little kid and a mom in all of his Harrington glory and it’s fucking irresistible. “You, perchance?”

Billy actually chokes on his gum and he swallows it. It makes Harrington look a little proud of himself. “Pretty boy,” he says, voice on the edge of scratchy, “you want me up your ass so bad, all you gotta do is ask.” He flutters his eyelashes a little bit like Heather does sometimes. Can guys do that? Does it look like he has something in his eye? Maybe he should’ve gone for the slow elevator eyes and lip-lick instead. Maybe he should draw attention to his crotch. Is that too much? How does he make it clear that he’s down to slap Harrington’s ass _off_ the court, but not too clear that Billy can’t play it off as homoerotic jock culture if Harrington isn’t into it?

Harrington rolls his eyes. “For real. Get the hell out.”

“Whattya got going on after work?” Everything inside him lights up for a second, half in alarm and half in celebration, because the words _came out of his mouth_. He’s been saying them to himself in the mirror for the last two weeks in different voices, tones, and intonations, and maybe that’s why he can’t remember how he said it just now. Maybe he slurred the first half of his sentence together in his rush to get it out. _Shit_ , oh fuck, he’s done for. 

“Why do you care?”

_Let’s go to a movie. Let’s go to the quarry. I’ll bring beer. We can go hang out at the pool, I have the keys. Better yet, I heard you’ve got a big empty house and a nice heated pool. Let’s go for a drive. You just wanna fuck around and talk? We can smoke. Get dinner. Play basketball. I can sit in your kitchen and watch you make yourself a sandwich. I’ll hang out with you here til your shift ends._

“My schedule opened up,” he says languidly instead of letting loose his psycho-babble. “Figured I’d give you a shot. I know you’ve been chomping the bit, Harrington, don’t lie.”

“Shit, Hargrove, I’m gonna swoon.” 

That stings a little even though he probably should have expected it, so he watches Harrington do a really shitty job at mopping the floor for a while. Has this guy ever cleaned a day in his life? Honestly, probably not, but if Billy tried to show him how to do it right, Harrington would think he was being attacked, and/or Billy would fall onto his ass from how awkward he’s feeling, and Harrington’s too nice a guy to leave him bleeding out on the floor. Is staunching someone’s bleeding hot date material? Honestly, he’s spent more time staunching his own bleeding than he has coming up with good date ideas, so the jury’s sort of out on that one.

“I’ve got some fresh joints and you’re the only guy around here who probably hasn’t fucked his sister. Plus, you seem like someone who’s smoked before and won’t be a pussy about it. I like ‘em fat.”

Harrington _hesitates_.”What about Tommy? Better yet, why aren’t you making some girl reflect on her life choices?”

Billy doesn’t have a good answer for that. At least, not one that he can _say_. If Harrington was some chick, he could get all close and cozy and say shit like _no place I’d rather be_ , because girls eat that up. How is he supposed to say shit to Harrington when Harrington barely looks at him? Living for these little stupid interactions is pathetic as fuck, but if it’s all he’s going to get, he’ll take it. He doesn’t have basketball as an excuse anymore to be in Harrington’s vicinity, so he’ll take every inch and make it a mile.

“Tommy’s a bitch when he’s high.” Harrington snorts appreciatively and wheels the mop and bucket into the back room. Billy tries to catch his reflection in the ice cream case to see if his hair has gone weird and frizzy, but the shop’s lighting is shit and the case isn’t reflective enough. “Come on,” he says when Harrington comes back out. “What do you say? You, me. I’ll bring the spliff and the booze.”

Harrington’s eyebrow goes up. “What’s the catch?” 

Ah, shit. All of the conversations he’s had with himself over the past several _months_ all seemed to leave out the fact that him being nice could be seen as suspicious. Maybe he should apologize for the fight. Would Harrington like that? What _does_ Harrington like? He dated Nancy Wheeler, which -- if stuck-up bitches are his thing, Billy’s more fucked than he thought. Billy can be stuck-up and he can be a bitch, but there’s no way the list of his kinks would fit in a cardigan. Harrington would probably _try_ it with a guy, though, right? He was that sort of boo-hoo my parents don’t love me sort of rich, plus he’s been unpopular with anyone over the age of seven since Wheeler dumped him. Maybe he’d be down for a little feel-up if he hasn’t gotten any for a while. Maybe he’s already hooking up with the Scoops Ahoy bitch. _Fuck_ , he should apologize.

Billy tries to look like he doesn’t care if Steve comes along or not. Does the cool guy shit work on dudes too? Maybe he should’ve worn his leather jacket without a shirt under it instead of the button-up. But sometimes he’s _feeling_ that sexy Risky Business look. “I mean, you’d stop me from blowing my brains out in this corn-fed hellhole.”

For a second, Harrington looks like he might say yes, but then he shakes his head like he’s mentally slapping some sense back into himself. Billy can feel himself wilt a little inside. “Stop yelling at Lucas when he’s not doing anything.”

“Who?” It comes out before he can stop it. Harrington rolls his eyes, and okay, Billy can _see_ where it’s probably uncool to pick on Sinclair, but Billy’s options are either falling headfirst into the pool watching Harrington rub sunscreen into the pink skin of his inner thighs, or harassing the kid who’s dating his sister. It’s not like he has much of a choice. Maybe he’ll start blowing his whistle at Harrington instead. Would that be annoying or, like, sexy, like Billy’s pulling his pigtails?

“You are _such_ a prick.” He does come up to the front counter, though, instead of leaning against the back one. It seems like it’s mostly to square off with Billy, but he’s close enough that Billy can smell his sweat and the recycled mall air clinging to his clothes, so he really can’t complain. If he hadn’t swallowed his gum, he could’ve blown a bubble and Harrington’s nose would’ve popped it. “Are you actually going to order or do you just think it’s cute to loiter?”

“Everything I do is cute.” He goes for his cutest, least smarmy smile. Harrington’s expression doesn’t shift _at all_. “Make me whatever, I don’t care.”

Harrington furrows his brow and does a slow, dramatic turn to look up at the menu board behind him. “Can you point that out to me?” he asks. “I don’t see _whatever, I don’t care_ in our list of classic sundaes.”

Billy reaches across the counter to shove his shoulder a little, just enough to be flirty instead of to knock him flat on his ass. Billy has a perpetual hard-on for guys who can hold their own like Harrington can. There’s something so sexy about a guy who doesn’t take his shit. Billy _likes_ nice guys, and nice guys who act indifferent about him light a fire under his skin.

“What’s your favorite?” Billy says. He’s suddenly very aware that he’s starting to blush a little. “Gimme that.”

“My favorite is watching your ass walk right back out that door.”

Billy’s heart jumps, even though he _obviously_ didn’t mean it like that, so he taps a fingernail against the ice cream case to distract himself. “Can you point that one out to me?” he echoes. “I don’t see it.”

Harrington _does_ smile, and even if Billy doesn’t walk away with his phone number or plans to hang out, he can at least take the W. He watches Harrington grab the scoop, flip it in his hand, and lean down to carve into the tub of rocky road. Billy holds his breath watching the muscles flexing in his arm and has to blink himself out of his stupor when Harrington straightens up again. He sets a little cup on the counter and puts a cherry on top.

“Voilà,” he says, sweeping his hand out dramatically. “You got your chocolate, your nuts, and your marshmallows. Can’t go wrong there.” When Billy reaches for his wallet, he shakes his head. “On the house, if you get the hell out of here.”

Billy can’t even be mad. Steve Harrington is giving him _ice cream_ for _free_. Steve Harrington smiled at the stupid joke he made. Steve Harrington’s voice has lost its edge and he’s ribbing Billy right back. 

He’s gonna chance it. “What are you doing tomorrow?” He puts the cherry in his mouth and wiggles it at Harrington from between his teeth.

“Babysitting,” he says. “Why? Still no hot date? Is Billy Hargrove losing his touch?”

“Joint’s yours when you want it.” He taps the breast pocket of his shirt like they’re on him right now instead of under the seat in his car. It’s mostly to show off how hard his nipples are in the A/C. “Holdin’ you to it, Harrington.”

“Don’t hold your breath too long,” he says, but he’s _smiling_. Billy shoves his spoon in his mouth so he can give Harrington a big, dumb salute. When he looks back a few steps out of the shop, Harrington’s back is turned, but he’s still shaking his head, his shoulders relaxed, and Billy can’t help thinking that maybe he has a chance.

xxx

Maybe it’s because his dad decided to come hover over him while he worked on his car and call him a fag for having shaky hands, but sometime between leaving Scoops Ahoy last night and the end of his shift at the pool, the boiling pit in his stomach has resurrected itself into the same self-hatred he’s been trying to outrun for eighteen years. Harrington comes by the pool in the afternoon to pick up his kids and waves at him from across the pool. Billy turns away, his stomach rolling. 

Bad for _this_. Bad for _that_. Bad for wanting. He should’ve known his dad would be able to smell it on him. The desperation, the deviance. Clearly something in him is upside down or cracked down the middle if he’s really having these feelings about other guys. About _Steve Harrington_ , most of all. Maybe it’s because he’s sort of effeminate. His mouth is always a dark pink and he’s got big, pretty eyes, and long fingers with neatly trimmed nails. He’s pretty. Maybe Billy’s brain’s getting it all mixed up. Maybe he’s not _actually_ depraved. Maybe someday he’ll be cured of it and his head won’t be so stuffed full of cotton.

Mrs. Wheeler’s in the pool today. She’s making a show of it for him. His eyes slide over to the chair where her stuff is piled up next to her friends. Sandra, his neighbor, is there. If he makes a move on Karen, there’s no way Sandra’s not going to know. Sandra’s a loudmouth bitch, so her husband’s gonna know, too, and he drinks with Billy’s dad at the bar sometimes. Maybe it’ll get back to his dad if he scores with an older chick.

The thought of being with a woman, of _proving_ to his dad that Billy’s not just a lost cause, tastes acrid on his tongue, but he still invites Karen to Motel 6. Primps himself in the mirror at home and tries not to pretend it’s for Harrington. He hasn’t moved the weed out from under the seat in his car. He tries not to think about what would happen, what could happen, what might happen, if Harrington ever decides to collect.

He’s out the door by 7:30.

**Author's Note:**

> hmu on tumblr at hectordelavega!! esp if you wanna see something specific from my ao3


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